


Love Blossoms

by Laragh



Series: The Love... Series [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Slow Burn, non-supernatual, reverse-Sheila who obsesses over Thanksgiving, there is smut along the way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2019-09-29 12:39:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17203571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laragh/pseuds/Laragh
Summary: Not your garden variety trip to the florist.





	Love Blossoms

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted @ [The Kitten Board](http://thekittenboard.net/thekitt/viewtopic.php?f=5&t=10540#p720283) in June 2017 for The Food Fight Challenge with the following requirements:
> 
>  
> 
> _1\. A Food Fight must break out at some point_  
>  _2\. Something signed (object, picture, book… whatever…; does not have to be a celebrity autograph)_  
>  _3\. Must include: Strawberries_  
>  _4\. Must include: Scientific Measurements (any sort of measurement in a scientific way or purpose)_  
>  _5\. Must use EITHER (or both) of the following quotes:_  
>  _ **a.** “I still have a picture of your hair."_  
>  _ **b.** “Hey Girl!”_

 

 

  
Willow Rosenberg hated Thanksgiving.  
  
  
Not all of it, of course.  
  
  
The long weekend — great!  
  
  
Watching a giant Snoopy fly along the streets of Manhattan — great!  
  
  
The yams — extra great!  
  
  
Dealing with both her primary and extended family, all at once — not so great.  
  
  
Horrible, in fact.  
  
  
Painful.  
  
  
Especially when her overbearing mother was still insisting on planning her outfits to match the ‘décor’. Willow thought she’d left that bullshit behind in high school. She was a college-graduated, working woman for god’s sake; she could be trusted to pick out her own clothes for a family dinner!  
  
  
That argument, of course, had fallen on deaf ears with her mother and when her father gave her the ‘can you please just do it’ look, she knew it was futile to argue.  
  
  
At least she had somewhere further than her bedroom to escape to these days. Thanksgiving no longer included listening to the drunken arguments into the wee hours and putting on a happy face for breakfast the next morning.  
  
  
Now she just had to show up in her pre-chosen outfit; field questions about working in a ‘male-dominated field'; force a grin when asked about finding a husband to settle down with and nod enthusiastically about what a great spread her mother had put out.  
  
  
She would have been sent to the gallows if she ever revealed it was all bought in, ready to reheat, from a local hotel.  
  
  
Everyone knew, of course. Just like everybody knew she was gay. The Rosenbergs were master filterers and practiced at the art of keeping up appearances.  
  
  
This had all lead to Willow standing through a ‘fitting’ at her childhood home while her mother Sheila had finalized her decision on wardrobe. When every thread and button had finally been agreed upon, she dropped the whammy — she wanted Willow to wear a floral crown on the day.  
  
  
Her.  
  
  
A grown adult.  
  
  
Wearing a floral crown.  
  
  
To Thanksgiving dinner.  
  
  
In November.  
  
  
Willow had worn one for her Bat Mitzvah and even then it had felt a bit juvenile. She could only deduce that that was the last time she'd made her mother proud and she was trying to reclaim that somehow.  
  
  
She felt like she was going to be a walking centerpiece, so she planned on having a ‘misunderstanding’ with her Uncle Herman’s dog, Kelev, about what was or wasn’t a chew toy.  
  
  
She was still deciding whether to sneak some (hard to find in her kosher household) bacon into the crown or just have it fall near him and hope for the best. Maybe some turkey juice would be less obvious, she mused, as she pulled up on the curb near the flower shop.  
  
  
Her mother had deemed her worthy of getting the crown made up herself, as long as the colors matched the outfit. She'd even made Willow bring a physical photo she'd taken herself to show it in the manner she wanted.  
  
  
Willow had planned to find a store in the worst part of town, in the hope that it might be bad enough that Sheila would have to renege at the last minute and she’d be reprieved, but it turned out there was only one flower shop in town anyway.  
  
  
She got out of her car and tapped her credit card against the parking meter, then walked down the street until she was at the store and stepped inside.  
  
  
A little bell rang as she entered, and her nose was instantly lit up by the sweet aroma on the floor. She looked around and was disappointed to see the place was in good order — all of the flowers were fresh and bright, the pre-made arrangements looked stunning and the whole place was spotless, with different areas neatly sorted and devoted to families of flowers.  
  
  
She approached the desk, where the young girl behind the counter was dealing with a slightly belligerent and clearly impatient man.  
  
  
“I’m asking for the most common bouquet a flower shop could have! You’re telling me you can’t just give me a bunch of red roses?!”  
  
  
Willow watched the girl’s forehead crease and noted how she somehow managed to make a stress line look cute.  
  
  
_The flower girl is pretty._  
  
  
“Yes, sir, but you’ve demanded the freshest we have and in order to give you that I have to de-thorn and wrap them, which will only take three or four minutes if you’d let me get them from the back.”  
  
  
“Fine,” the man replied with a dismissive wave and Willow internally seethed.  
  
  
The girl returned holding a bunch of 12 long-stemmed roses and set them on the counter. She picked up a gadget that Willow didn’t recognize but it became clear what it was for when the girl started plucking the thorns with it in quite quick succession.  
  
  
The man was tapping his foot with an ever increasing speed before letting out an exaggerated, irritated sigh.  
  
  
“You’re going slow on purpose! Even I'd do it faster!”  
  
  
He snatched the rose she was holding from her and immediately some red started running down his thumb.  
  
  
“Ow! Why did you let me grab this?!”  
  
  
The girl behind the counter paled and stumbled slightly as she watched the gush of blood come from the man’s digit.  
  
  
“What, are you going to pass out on me now?!”  
  
  
An older woman came through the door to the backroom at the sound of the shrieking and cast a look at the man, which Willow recognized. It was the same one she gave to her aunt Ahuva when she would berate waitresses who were doing a perfectly good job. Beloved, she was not.  
  
  
The older woman had a more intimidating presence and gently pushed the younger girl into the corner to hold onto the counter.  
  
  
“Tara, I’ll deal with this. Go drink some water.”  
  
  
Willow watched the girl take a glug of water from a bottle she produced from under the counter, and close her eyes to wait for some color to come back to her cheeks. She was only a minute or so, but still looked deeply apologetic when she spotted Willow and turned to help her.  
  
  
“I’m so sorry. I-I can take care of you now.”  
  
  
Willow took the few steps forward and couldn’t help smiling as the girl’s — _Tara_ , she remembered the older woman call her — features came into clearer view. She really was beautiful.  
  
  
Bright blue eyes; a long, slender neck; and soft-looking pink lips that looked very kissable.  
  
  
And those cheekbones. Man, those cheekbones. They could cut glass, or probably more aptly, stab her in the heart, knowing her luck. Still, she could stare for hours, though she tried not to.  
  
  
The color was definitely returning to her cheeks; Willow even thought she seemed a little flushed now.  
  
  
She put a palm on the counter and cast a sideways glance at the angry man being dealt with at the other end of the store.  
  
  
“Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting if you need a minute.”  
  
  
Tara most definitely did flush now, embarrassed that her moment of feebleness had been witnessed.  
  
  
“I’m not so good with blood.”  
  
  
“I’m not so good with assholes” Willow retorted, and watched how the pretty girl’s—  
  
  
_Tara_  
  
  
— lips pursed together in the most delightful manner to hide the laugh that threatened to bubble out.  
  
  
Tara ducked her head momentarily and when she looked back up, was gently biting her bottom lip. She slowly released it into a smile that made Willow feel inappropriately moist.  
  
  
“How can I help you?” Tara asked, shyly tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.  
  
  
“I’m not entirely sure if you can…” Willow replied, eyes following Tara's long fingers, “But I’m looking to get a floral crown made. For, uh, me.”  
  
  
She cringed, but Tara just nodded amiably.  
  
  
“I can do that.”  
  
  
Willow did a half-fake grumble.  
  
  
“Damn, I was kinda hoping you’d say you couldn’t so I could tell my mom I tried but it's a no-go,” she said with a self-deprecating eye roll, “She wants the illusion of an angelic daughter to show off for Thanksgiving even though I’m mega on the disappointment scale for various traditional and non-traditional reasons and I guess I still seek her approval, hence why I’m letting her dress me but that’s a discussion for my therapist and I should stop talking now.”  
  
  
She stopped to take a breath and clear her throat but Tara didn’t seem fazed.  
  
  
“Do you have specific flowers or colors in mind?”  
  
  
Willow slid her hand into her back pocket and brought out the infamous photo, which she handed it over the counter.  
  
  
“This is what I’m being forced into. I mean, uh, wearing.”  
  
  
Tara took the photo and looked at it, regarding the outfit. It was certainly seasonal with an orange, brown and white striped dress with brown leggings and brown leather knee-high boots. The boots got her a little excited but she didn't let it show.  
  
  
She handed it back with a shy smile.  
  
  
“You look really nice.”  
  
  
Willow’s face lit up and she had to remind herself to take the photo back again.  
  
  
“So can you do something for me?”  
  
  
Tara nodded.  
  
  
“Definitely.”  
  
  
She opened a drawer and took out a measuring tape.  
  
  
“Can I…?”  
  
  
“Oh yeah, of course,” Willow replied.  
  
  
Tara took measurements of the circumference of Willow’s head, of the crown and noted it. She left the tape back and took out a spool of wire, which she snipped with the scissors and twisted into a head-sized circular shape.  
  
  
“This is just to mock up something I can work with.”  
  
  
“That’s great,” Willow said, a little too eagerly.  
  
  
Tara wrapped the wire in double-sided tape, and came around to the other side of the counter. She brought Willow to a section called ‘Artificial Bloomers’, a fancy way of saying it was the fake flower area.  
  
  
“The only bloomers I ever saw before belonged to my Bubbe,” Willow joked.  
  
  
Tara ducked her head as she smiled again and Willow felt her own smile grow in response.  
  
  
Finally Tara looked up to meet Willow’s eye again.  
  
  
“I think we should use the brighter flowers to bring out your eyes.”  
  
  
“I trust you,” Willow replied, making her cheeks redden, “I mean with the flowers.”  
  
  
Tara picked out a few different flowers; some orange roses, yellow daisy poms, red hypericum for added decoration and two red lilies either side for framing.  
  
  
Willow watched her fingers pluck the fake flowers so delicately and place them together, making it look artistic even just with sticky tape.  
  
  
She surprised herself by thinking it looked great, and put it right on her head when Tara handed it to her to have a look.  
  
  
“What do you think? Does it look as good on as it does off?”  
  
  
Tara glanced around for a mirror, but they didn’t get too many people in to wear the flowers.  
  
  
“Do you want me to take a picture?”  
  
  
“Please,” Willow agreed, and felt around for her phone, but it wasn't on her, “Oh. I left it in the car.”  
  
  
Tara went behind the counter and produced her phone.  
  
  
“Want me to…?”  
  
  
_Give me your number? Yes, I would like you to give me your number._  
  
  
“Sure,” Willow agreed, and started to pose, a little self-consciously.  
  
  
Tara fumbled with the phone for a moment, then looked up, blushing.  
  
  
“I'm so bad with these things.”  
  
  
“Oh, here,” Willow replied, taking the phone and moving it off video and adjusting the flash, “There you go.”  
  
  
Tara took time to get the angle right and snapped a picture.  
  
  
Willow took a look and was a little shocked — she actually thought she looked pretty.  
  
  
“I love it,” she said softly, “I’ll take it.”  
  
  
“Really?” Tara asked, surprised, “You don’t want to change anything? It should be just how you want it. It will have more flowers, more intricately weaved and they'll be real, of course, but are you sure the colors and placement are okay?”  
  
  
Willow nodded.  
  
  
“It’s perfect. You sure know your flowers,” she said, then cringed a little, “I guess that’s pretty dumb to say to someone working in a flower shop.”  
  
  
Tara shook her head slightly to try to alleviate Willow’s embarrassment.  
  
  
“My mother and grandmother were florists. My mother grew up in the upstairs of my grandmother’s store, then it was passed down to her and I was always in it, helping out. This was an easy part time job to get during college. I just graduated but I’m still here. It runs through my veins, I guess.”  
  
  
She went back behind the counter and took out an order sheet.  
  
  
“You can collect it the Tuesday or Wednesday before Thanksgiving. That way it will stay fresh for you over the weekend, if you keep it cold,” she said as she scribbled a few notes, “Do you want to give us an email address so we can let you know when it’s ready?”  
  
  
“I don’t want to give you more work,” Willow replied, coming over to stand where she was originally.  
  
  
Tara gathered her hair to one side of her as she wrote on the page, giving Willow a delicious view of her smooth neck.  
  
  
“It’s kind of embarrassing but Evelyn, the owner, does all the electronic correspondence. I-I go online sometimes, but…everyone's spelling is really bad. It's depressing. But she likes me to get people’s emails if they’re willing. We get a lot of big orders and people come on the wrong days all the time. Flowers aren't cut or cut too early and turning already. Most…” she said, cocking her head to the side, “Are less like you and more like…”  
  
  
When she didn’t get a response, she looked up. Willow snapped out of her daze when she saw hair falling back into place.  
  
  
“Well I'm glad I'm not like him. But, that would be great, I’d love a reminder email.”  
  
  
Tara turned the sheet around and Willow wrote down her email down in the little section provided.  
  
  
“I can get her to send you that picture so you can show your mom if you need to,” Tara offered, “I would do it myself, but it would probably end up going to some grandma in Anaheim.”  
  
  
Willow smiled, but it was accompanied by a blush.  
  
  
“You must think I’m the biggest loser in the world, worried about what my Mommy thinks.”  
  
  
“No, not at all,” Tara said quickly and had to step back to clear her throat, “Sorry, my mom…she’s having tests done at the moment. So I don’t think there’s anything wrong with doing something nice for your mom. I think it’s sweet.”  
  
  
She shared a nervous smile, which Willow responded to by giving her hand a reassuring pat.  
  
  
Tara seemed pleased; whether it was because Willow wasn’t mad that she’d overshared with a customer or because she too thought they shared a ‘moment’, Willow wasn’t sure. But she liked seeing her smile.  
  
  
“So, um, the price will vary slightly because our prices can change a bit week to week depending on our volume, but it’ll be somewhere between $35 and $40,” Tara continued, “Is that okay?”  
  
  
“That’s great,” Willow agreed, “Oh, I just need one more thing.”  
  
  
“Sure,” Tara replied, standing up straight again to put herself in professional mode.  
  
  
“You see, it’s…” Willow said, voice hesitating for a moment, “It’s for a cute girl who needs a little pick-me-up. I thought I’d just give her a single flower she can tuck away and enjoy without embarrassing her with a big display.”  
  
  
“Okay,” Tara agreed, gaze moving down yet again to hide the odd sense of disappointment she felt, “Does she have a favorite flower?”  
  
  
“I don’t know, really,” Willow said a bit helplessly, “Could you recommend something?”  
  
  
Tara nodded.  
  
  
Well, there's always a rose. The different colors have different meanings, so you can customize the experience. If you want something less mainstream that hasn't traveled far, you could opt for a poppy,” she explained “Or sometimes I like to make up a little mini-bouquet of blossom flowers. It’s the same size as a large flower but much more decorative, and it’s more unique than a single. You can also mix and match colors to really make It stand out.”  
  
  
Willow's brow creased.  
  
  
“Isn't it the wrong season for those? I don't know much, but I always see those cherry blossoms flying everywhere in the Spring.”  
  
  
“It is Spring,” Tara answered with a charming smile, “Just a little bit more south.”  
  
  
“Well I never would have even thought of that!” Willow replied, grinning, “Can you make me up one of those?”  
  
  
“Of course,” Tara replied, “We have some white, red and orange-yellow tinged ones in back at the moment.”  
  
  
Willow thought about it for a moment.  
  
  
“Could you do like a little circle of white with one red in the middle? Like a flower made out of flowers if you know what I mean.”  
  
  
Tara’s lips quirked up on one side.  
  
  
“I love that.”  
  
  
Willow blushed at the cutest smile she’d even seen and averted her gaze. Tara went into the backroom and came back just a few minutes later with an impeccably presented mini-bouquet, wrapped it its own leaves and tied together in a bow shape with a thin stem.  
  
  
Willow agreed, it was unusual but with a lot more character than a rose.  
  
  
“That looks amazing.”  
  
  
Tara held it in both hands and lifted it to her nose.  
  
  
“Smells nice too.”  
  
  
Willow leaned in and smelled the flower of flowers. It was sweet and fruity, and so was Tara judging by the waft of perfume Willow got for being so close to her.  
  
  
Their faces moved close together when Willow lifted her head again and their eyes lingered for a moment. That was until the bell over the door rang as a new customer came in and made them both look away. The new customer went straight to the owner, Evelyn, to deal with, but the moment had been broken.  
  
  
Tara gathered Willow’s bouquet and rang it up, along with handing her the order strip for the crown.  
  
  
Willow paid, put the slip safely in her wallet and took her little bouquet.  
  
  
She then pushed it right back in Tara’s direction.  
  
  
“These are for you.”  
  
  
Tara’s brow creased, in confusion this time, but Willow found it just as cute. She wondered if it was possible for this girl to pull a face that wasn't adorable.  
  
  
“But you said it was for…”  
  
  
Willow made sure Tara’s hand was closed around the bouquet before shooting a winning smile.  
  
  
“It is.”  
  
  
With that, she casually walked out the door feeling like she was walking on air.

 

 

  
  
“Willow Rosenberg, you smooth motherfucker.”  
  
  
Buffy Summers, one of Willow’s best friends, had her chin resting on both fists as she listened to her friend tell the story of the Pretty Florist and the Magical Flower Crown. It was an enchanting tale, even if it had to be shouted over other club-goers.  
  
  
The live music playing was loud, but they’d come upstairs so they could talk.  
  
  
She was very interested in this new development in her friend’s life, as this was as charmed by a girl as she’d seen Willow in a long while.  
  
  
“Please tell me you asked her out and you're about to ask for fashion tips for your date!”  
  
  
Willow slumped and shook her head.  
  
  
“No. I…I just left. I thought I was being suave!” she said, pouting at herself, “What am I supposed to say?”  
  
  
She took a sip of beer and attempted to sit up confidently.  
  
  
“Hi, um, Tara, how are you? 'Well, I was wondering, if, you, maybe, you would wanna go out sometime? For coffee…food…kisses and gay love?'”  
  
  
She slumped back down in her seat again.  
  
  
“I’ve never just asked a stranger out like that! I can't even say it to you without stumbling over my words!”  
  
  
“You’re going back, right?” Buffy prompted, sipping her cocktail through a straw.  
  
  
Willow nodded.  
  
  
“I have to collect my order.”  
  
  
Buffy held two exasperated hands up in the air.  
  
  
“Well for the love of god, don’t walk out this time without getting a date!”

 

 

  
  
  
Willow nervously walked down the street again, towards the flower shop.  
  
  
She’d driven by once or twice, even saw Tara through the window once early on, but didn’t want to come across as desperate by going in before her order was ready.  
  
  
She practically leapt up out of her seat when the email notification popped up on her phone and really had run from work to get in her car and go. She'd been practicing for days about how to ask Tara out with the least amount of stumbling and had five different date ideas planned depending on if she got a yes and if so, how Tara wanted to play it.  
  
  
She secretly hoped she'd get the opportunity to take her on all five.  
  
  
She checked herself in the window of the electronics store next door and then tried to walk in as casually as she had walked out last time.  
  
  
Her heart immediately sank when Tara was nowhere to be seen, but she hoped she was just in the back.  
  
  
She glanced around as she walked to the counter and noticed the place looked quite different from the last time she’d been there. The flowers weren’t looking as fresh as they had been, nor were they arranged artfully. They just sat there. There was a general lack of flow and even a lack of some basic cleanliness. Petals and pollen littered the floor and the counter space was nowhere near as neat as it had been.  
  
  
Willow had to think for a moment if she’d even come to the same store, but she knew she hadn't driven to another town, so she had to have.  
  
  
“Uh, hi. I’m collecting an order,” she said as she approached.  
  
  
The woman looked frazzled but wasn’t impolite.  
  
  
“What’s the name?”  
  
  
“Willow Rosenberg,” Willow answered, though didn’t recall ever actually giving her name, “Oh, I have a…”  
  
  
She fished out her order slip and the owner looked very grateful.  
  
  
“Oh, great, thank you,” she said, and started inputting the details in the computer, “I see. Tara’s last order.”  
  
  
Heart. Sunk.  
  
  
“…last?”  
  
  
The owner let out a hearty sigh.  
  
  
“Poor girl had to up and leave her whole life. Had to move across the country to go home and take care of her sick mother. She made sure your order was complete, though. Here it is.”  
  
  
She bent down to open the bottom drawer and came back up with a white box. Willow was nowhere near as excited as before and just slid the box under her arm.  
  
  
“Thanks. How much did it come to?”  
  
  
The owner read the computer.  
  
  
“Looks like it’s already paid for.”  
  
  
“Oh, no,” Willow shook her head, “I paid for some other flowers on the day but not this. She said she couldn’t give a fixed price until it was made.”  
  
  
The woman sighed again and looked into the details of payment.  
  
  
“Seems she paid for it herself. She was generous like that,” she concluded finally, “I hope you get good use from it. She has a real artistic touch. I’m quite lost without her. At least every day is another day closer to retirement…”  
  
  
Willow swallowed and shoved her wallet back into her purse.  
  
  
“Well…thank you. Bye.”  
  
  
She went back to the car and slammed the driver’s door once she was inside. She set the box on her lap and angrily tore the lid off.  
  
  
Her anger dissipated quickly when she saw the crown. Tara had weaved the colors together even more beautifully than Willow ever could have imagined. There was no break, no flaw, just a perfect loop of autumnal beauty. Kelev wouldn't be getting anywhere near it.  
  
  
She set it back carefully and noticed a little folded piece of paper in the corner. She opened it and her heart sped up this time. She was going to need beta-blockers before this experience ended.

 

_Thank you for the flowers.  
It made my week.  
Here’s some for you.  
I hope you (and your mom) like it  
Have a happy Thanksgiving  
— Tara (the hemophobic florist)_

  
  
  
Willow felt punched in the gut that Tara had taken the time to leave her a note on top of everything else, even when her life had clearly been turned upside down.  
  
  
She dropped her head into her hands and felt like crying; saddened for the girl that had been so sweet to her, dejected at her high hopes being dashed so assuredly, and angry at herself for missing her chance when she had it.

 

 

 

 

**Nine Months Later**

  
  
Willow lifted her head to let her face bask in the late morning Spanish sun.  
  
  
A year ago, she couldn’t have imagined going on vacation to San Francisco on her own, let alone Spain. She’d never even been out of the country before.  
  
  
Yet here she was, one of thousands of people gathered in a small Spanish town just to throw a bunch of tomatoes at each other.  
  
  
La Tomatina seemed like one of the wackiest things Willow had ever heard when she first came across it.  
  
  
She had been reading about adventure vacations, and had skimmed past it at first as it seemed relatively tame compared to other things on the list, but became intrigued when she spotted it had started as a protest.  
  
  
Throwing tomatoes wasn't too far removed from throwing bricks, and that appealed to the gay history buff inside her; that little flicker that burned inside LGBT people like her that hoped if she'd been there at The Stonewall Inn on that night, that she would have fought back too.  
  
  
Looking at pictures had made her want in on the fun, and the location made a pretty convincing argument. She just felt it deep inside that she had to go there, for the bragging rights if nothing else. There was a click in her brain that this was the vacation for her.  
  
  
The energy outside was electric with excited onlookers surrounding her from every possible angle. New comers and town residents mixed together, already enjoying the festival and getting in on the local traditions. The whole town was covered in blue tarp to protect it from the onslaught that was about to begin, and every so often a local would drop some water from above, just to unofficially warm everybody up.  
  
  
There was some kind of ham resting atop a pole that people were trying and failing to climb. Willow knew she’d know when someone succeeded, because the tomato-slinging would begin. Such was the law of the wacky festival.  
  
  
Willow tried to pick out faces in the crowd, deciphering nationalities and spotting relationships by the way people were interacting. She liked to analyze and away from her work apparatus, people-watching was the easiest way.  
  
  
She could only see a fraction of a percent of the twenty thousand participants that had arrived to celebrate, all of whom were wearing similar clothing — the kind you didn't care about getting destroyed by a catapult of tomatoes hitting you.  
  
  
Willow spotted someone wearing clothes near identical to her — a white t-shirt and mid-thigh jean shorts — but it wasn’t the clothes that stood out to her.  
  
  
It was the face.  
  
  
Well the legs, at first.  
  
  
But then the face.  
  
  
It was familiar.  
  
  
“Tara?”  
  
  
Willow hadn’t forgotten about the flower girl who had gotten away. In fact, she was indirectly responsible for Willow standing in that spot at that very moment.  
  
  
She thought she must be seeing things, or a doppelganger at best, but still pushed her way over to where maybe-Tara was.  
  
  
“Tara?”  
  
  
Tara turned slowly, surprised to hear her name being called. Her eyes widened when she saw who it was.  
  
  
Willow took a step back, assuming Tara to be freaked out that a relative stranger was approaching her in a foreign country, saying her name.  
  
  
“I’m sorry, I know you won’t remember me at all. I’m—”  
  
  
“Blossom,” Tara interrupted, then immediately blushed, “Sorry, I-I know that’s not your name. That’s…just what I’ve been calling you in my head.”  
  
  
Willow blinked for a moment, processing that she had been thought about, too.  
  
  
“It's Willow,” she said finally, “I'm Willow.”  
  
  
Tara ducked her head but raised her eyes to meet Willow’s, in conjunction with a not-even-trying-to-be-charismatic crooked smile.  
  
  
“Still in the botanical family.”  
  
  
Willow laughed.  
  
  
“I guess it is.”  
  
  
There was a small lull as they both reeled that they were standing in front of the other.  
  
  
“I still have a picture of your hair,” Tara said eventually, blushing when she thought about how it sounded.  
  
  
Willow didn't care, she was happy to hear it.  
  
  
“I loved the crown,” she said with utmost sincerity, “I wasn’t looking forward to wearing it before, but yours was so beautiful. My mom even said it looked nicer than she was expecting. Which, if you knew my mom, is like the biggest compliment ever.”  
  
  
She registered Tara’s little smile but her mind was working on something else.  
  
  
“Blossom…” she said softly, thinking it over, “You…you remember the flowers I gave you?”  
  
  
Tara could only nod.  
  
  
“It was the s-sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me,” she said, awkwardly turning her hands over each other.  
  
  
They shared a smile, and Tara broke it first to gesture around.  
  
  
“What are you doing here?”  
  
  
“Well, I’ve been feeling kind of bucket list-y recently,” Willow explained, then added quickly when she saw the look on Tara’s face, “I’m not dying or anything, I just…realized I wasn’t living life to the fullest. I…missed an opportunity I really regretted and I decided I wasn’t going to let it happen again.”  
  
  
She stopped to take a breath.  
  
  
“Anyway, the world’s biggest food fight seemed list-worthy,” she said jokingly, “It was either this or the World Custard Pie Championships in England, and, well, the weather is much better here.”  
  
  
Tara smiled again and Willow thought it was dangerous for her to swoon where so many people could stampede all over her.  
  
  
“What about you?” she asked, trying to keep the crack out of her voice.  
  
  
Tara looked sad for a moment.  
  
  
“M-my mother left me a ticket in her will.”  
  
  
Willow stepped in closer and brought a hand up to rub Tara’s upper arm. It was unlike her to physically touch someone she didn't really know, but the look on Tara's face broke her heart and she'd moved on instinct.  
  
  
When she’d thought about Tara, which was embarrassingly often considering how fleeting their meeting, she'd wondered how her mom was doing and how Tara was coping with it all.  
  
  
“I’m so sorry.”  
  
  
Tara looked appreciative for the concern.  
  
  
“She came here once before I was born. She told me it was one of the most fun experiences of her life and she wanted me to have some fun. So I'm here to have fun.”  
  
  
Willow’s hand paused on Tara’s arm, but stayed where it was. Her eyelids glanced down at Tara and then back up through her lashes.  
  
  
“Are you here with anyone?”  
  
  
Tara shook her head, so Willow decided to go for it. She could always lose herself into the crowd if she had to slink away in embarrassment.  
  
  
“Wanna have some fun together?”  
  
  
Willow knew she was being flirty, and Tara did too. She gave the same look back.  
  
  
“Yes. I would.”  
  
  
Willow’s hand ran down Tara’s arm smoothly, where their fingers linked. Both of them got a little giddy but it fit in with the tone of the rest of the crowd. They just stared at each other again, dazed to be in each other's presence.  
  
  
A horn sounded and suddenly the palpable excitement became anarchy. Trucks rolled in, packed with tomatoes and it became every man for themselves as they were grabbed and thrown.  
  
  
Willow and Tara stuck together, but were too busy getting pelted to even try to grab a tomato to throw back.  
  
  
“Duck!” Willow screeched as one came hurtling towards them.  
  
  
Tara ducked and Willow received it, right bang smack in the face. Tara shot back up, looking worried.  
  
  
“Are you okay?!”  
  
  
Willow’s eyes seemed dizzy for a moment but they quickly focused on Tara’s. She leaned in until their noses were almost touching.  
  
  
Tara felt her breath quicken and her lips parted in anticipation…only to get a gob full of tomato as Willow smushed one into her face.  
  
  
Tara’s mouth hung open in surprise for a moment, then she replaced it with a grin.  
  
  
“You asked for it…Willow.”  
  
  
They were tightly packed at first, but then the crowd began to flow and they ran down the streets; slipping and sliding, throwing tomatoes at strangers and getting plenty back in return. They didn’t hurt anymore; the adrenaline was pumping and everybody was just caught up in the frivolity of the fight.  
  
  
The whole town was covered and they had no idea where they were, but it didn't matter. They just embraced the joy and chaos and marveled at the sheer volume of so many people packed together, every one of them having fun. They and everyone else were ankle-deep in the freshest ketchup you could find and covered from head to toe in loose skins and tomato fruit.  
  
  
They hadn't shared more than a couple of words after the many minutes of food-fighting, but Willow was getting a cramp and she noticed Tara trying to catch her breath. She decided to pull them out of the crowd for a moment so they didn’t get shoved over by the people still actively fighting.  
  
  
She pulled Tara by the hand into a small little cobbled side alley as a sea of red passed by. A projectile came flying and she pushed Tara up against the wall to get her out of the way.  
  
  
Their noses brushed again, but this time Willow didn’t miss her chance. She moved her lips until they were almost painfully not-quite-touching, to give Tara a chance to move away, but instead Tara pulled Willow’s lips onto her own without a second thought.  
  
  
Willow moaned quietly; Tara’s lips were even softer than she imagined and tasted as sweet as could be. Throwing tomatoes was the last thing on her mind, all she wanted was to quench her thirst from the hot sun with Tara’s kisses.  
  
  
She pressed her body more fluidly against Tara’s and got an appreciative moan in response.  
  
  
Willow wanted to hear that again — louder, softer, in her ear, lost into a pillow, screamed up to the ceiling — she didn’t care, she just wanted to be the cause of that pleasure.  
  
  
She gently offered her tongue, which Tara took in eagerly. Willow started to get dizzy and she knew it wasn’t jet lag.  
  
  
Kissing women against walls wasn’t a regular weekday occurrence for her. Especially sweet, beautiful women whom she’d been dreaming of for months. That she'd just happened to run into, six thousand miles from home in the biggest crowd she’d ever been in.  
  
  
Nope, this definitely wasn’t normal.  
  
  
_This is fate._  
  
  
It was maybe a bit of an intense thought for what was happening, but Willow couldn't help but feel it. She felt that same pull that had brought her here in the first place. Or maybe she was just losing her mind over just how amazing it was to actually kiss Tara.  
  
  
They could have, and probably would have, stayed right there with little movement anywhere apart from their mouths and hands, but a loud horn blew and made them pull away. Though they remained pressed against each other, ever so slightly panting.  
  
  
Their eyes met and they both blushed simultaneously. Willow glanced down at her tomato-soaked clothing and realized the rest of her must look a mess too.  
  
  
“I, um, guess it’s over,” she said, then glanced at Tara with a soft smile, “I really enjoyed it.”  
  
  
“Me too,” Tara replied in the same way, “Much better than I could have ever expected.”  
  
  
Willow reached into Tara's hair and pulled out some tomato.  
  
  
“Definitely an experience!” she giggled, “Do you want to go find a hose down? Or are you going to the showers?”  
  
  
“House down sounds good,” Tara replied bashfully, “Then I need to go sit in the sun to dry off before I grab the bus. I didn't bring spare clothes. And I’m staying in Valencia…I couldn’t pass up ‘The City Of Flowers’.”  
  
  
“Really?” Willow asked, giddy again. “So am I! I tried to stay here, locally, but there was no accommodation left.”  
  
  
_Did I pluck a four-leaved clover I've lost somewhere? Cut off a rabbit's foot I can't remember? Pull the bigger half of a wishbone by accident? Or did my regular consumption of Lucky Charms just finally pay off? Who cares, Tara's staying in the same city as me!_  
  
  
Tara shook her head to herself, apparently also in awe of how they’d seemed to find each other.  
  
  
“Want to get the bus together maybe?”  
  
  
“Love to,” Willow answered without hesitation.  
  
  
“Let’s go get hosed off,” Tara replied with a definite flirty tone.  
  
  
Willow slipped their hands together again and they walked back onto the street, where industrial hoses were washing the streets, leaving spotless cobbles from the acidity of the tomatoes. They walked, sticky hand in sticky hand, until they passed a local who was kindly hosing down passersby.  
  
  
They both did a few 360° turns to get as much off as they could, then with heavy clothes walked back to the square where the buses met. Both were wearing white tank tops under their t-shirts to make it less see-through while wet, and both of them wished the other wasn't.  
  
  
“It’s so beautiful here, isn’t it?” Tara asked, averting her eyes from Willow's chest, “The architecture and roadways. I’ve been walking around in a daze admiring everything. Sensory overload sometimes.”  
  
  
Willow didn’t reply and Tara ducked her head.  
  
  
“Sorry, I’m boring you.”  
  
  
“No, no,” Willow replied quickly. For once she wasn't caught out sneaking a peek, but had been in her own thoughts, “Sorry. I’m just…I can’t believe you’re here. Of all the food fights in all the world…”  
  
  
Tara cocked her head to the side and regarded Willow sweetly. She could hardly believe it herself, but not believing would eat into time she didn’t want to waste. If the last few months had taught her anything, it was appreciate every moment you have.  
  
  
“Maybe it’s fate.”  
  
  
_YES!_  
  
  
“Maybe,” Willow replied, somehow able to regain her composure, “Can I get you a coffee or something?”  
  
  
Tara nodded.  
  
  
“I’d love a café con leche, actually. It was an early morning catching the bus.”  
  
  
Willow walked less than a block to get coffee and came back with pastries for them to share.  
  
  
Tara had secured a spot of wall to sit on in the meantime, as most of the festival go-ers were still in the town changing or getting hosed off.  
  
  
Willow returned with her hands laden down and placed the contents on the wall, then hoisted herself up, sore but happy.  
  
  
“This was amazing, wasn’t it?” she gushed and took a moment to take a gulp of coffee from a cheap, paper cup, “When we were running and we kept getting hit, but then we’d throw one and it’d catch someone perfectly…like a snowball fight on crack! I felt so free. Like, look, Willow Rosenberg is making a mess and nobody cares!”  
  
  
She noticed a slightly arched eyebrow from Tara, so clarified sheepishly.  
  
  
“I grew up in a very anally retentive household.”  
  
  
Tara just nodded and smiled.  
  
  
“For me it was everyone else’s infectious joy. It was like I could feed off it. It made my heart happy.”  
  
  
Willow scooted closer to Tara.  
  
  
“You must be getting full near me, then,” she said in a low voice, “Because I’m ecstatic right now.”  
  
  
Their lips brushed, now tinged with the strong coffee. It was softer than before and made them both warm inside. They broke apart to eat a little, already somehow so comfortable with each other.  
  
  
“Can I—?” Tara tried to offer money for the coffee, but Willow was having none of it.  
  
  
“No way. The absolute least I can do considering that beautiful flower crown was paid for when I went to collect it. Besides, I bought it off a local outside their house. It's not exactly haute cuisine.”  
  
  
Tara shrugged one shoulder softly.  
  
  
“You gave me some flowers, I gave you some flowers.”  
  
  
Willow gently brushed some flaked pastry off Tara’s knee.  
  
  
“Well, we did the flowers thing,” she said, completely and shamelessly lingering, “Traditionally, after a flower exchange, sometimes people get some dinner together.”  
  
  
Tara pursed her lips together, holding in a smile.  
  
  
“Are you asking me out on a date?”  
  
  
Willow was nowhere near as prepared as she had been the first time she planned to ask Tara out.  
  
  
“If you don’t have plans,” she replied quickly, suddenly nervous, “It doesn’t have to be tonight. I know there’s some serious partying going on later.”  
  
  
“I don’t have plans,” Tara replied, her tone unmistakably evocative, “And I’d love it to be tonight. We can be a party of two.”  
  
  
They both leaned in at the same time but were interrupted as a fleet of buses arrived, beeping to announce their arrival.  
  
  
They parted reluctantly and Willow stood.  
  
  
“We should get on quickly before it gets crazy.”  
  
  
Tara nodded.  
  
  
They both swung their tiny, waterproof backpacks off their backs — Willow’s plastic and mesh, Tara’s nylon; both bought specifically for the event to be thrown out later, because getting tomato seeds out of small pockets was a bitch. Each zipped theirs open to find their bus tickets.  
  
  
Most people were still lining up to collect their belongings from the locker room, which both Willow and Tara had avoided after reading guide books, or still dancing in the streets and celebrating, hanging out for later buses. Music was playing, so while they lined up, Willow took Tara’s hand and had her do a little twirl.  
  
  
Tara giggled and Willow leaned against the bus to help support her weak knees.  
  
  
“So, um, where are you staying?”  
  
  
“In La Xerea,” Tara answered.  
  
  
“Oh, I’ve walked through that neighborhood! It’s so quiet and quaint,” Willow replied with a smile, “I must not be that far from you. I’m staying in a place called Casa Cosy. It sounded, well, cosy.”  
  
  
“Is it?” Tara questioned with a somewhat-flirty arched eyebrow.  
  
  
Willow managed to nod, despite having flashing images in her mind of Tara spread out on her bed.  
  
  
“Typical old town Valencia on the outside, super modern on the inside. I mostly picked it for the location. Whereabouts are you?”  
  
  
“I’m staying in the boutique B&B right at Glorieta Gardens,” Tara replied.  
  
  
“I think I know that park,” Willow replied, recalling the triangular park and its beautiful trees, “You really love flowers, huh?”  
  
  
Tara blushed lightly.  
  
  
“Third generation florist and trained botanist, so…”  
  
  
She stepped onto the bus and handed off her ticket, while Willow ‘discreetly’ checked out her ass. Never pass up an opportunity; that was her new motto.  
  
  
“You’re in the sciences,” she said in an attempt to have her mouth be a cover for her eyes, “Me too.”  
  
  
“Oh, really?” Tara asked, interested and suddenly surprised at herself that she’d been making out with someone whose job she didn’t even know, “Wh—”  
  
  
She was stopped from finishing the question as the bus driver started gesturing erratically at Willow, who looked lost and slightly scared.  
  
  
“Do you have any idea what he’s saying? I took French in high school.”  
  
  
Tara actually did know a little Spanish, but he was speaking very quickly.  
  
  
“I think he’s saying you have to get on the other bus.”  
  
  
Willow looked at her ticket and realized hers was for a different route number. She made a pained face.  
  
  
“But it’s the same bus company and you’re both going to Valencia!”  
  
  
“Ugh,” she said finally, when the driver continued to rant at her and the line behind got restless, “I’ll meet you at the entrance of the park you're staying at? At, like, seven, for dinner? Does that suit you?”  
  
  
Tara smiled a winning smile.  
  
  
“I’ll be there.”  
  
  
Willow knew she couldn’t grab Tara for a smooch right then, so she lifted Tara’s hand to her mouth and kissed it.  
  
  
“See you then.”  
  
  
She backed off the bus and skipped over to the right one.  
  
  
Tara moved down the aisle, barely paying attention but eventually found an empty seat.  
  
  
She sat down and finally allowed herself to swoon.

 

 

  
  
Tara laid out the black dress she planned to wear to dinner out on the bed.  
  
  
She hadn’t packed anything to wear on a date, as she hadn’t envisioned any kind of romantic excursion on this trip, but she had packed some of her nicer casual clothes to blend in with the beautiful city.  
  
  
She put a belt against it to see if she’d wear it like that, but decided instead to stick with the dress and some light pantyhose. She didn't want to be uncomfortable later on.  
  
  
_I can’t believe I met Blossom— Willow, it's Willow…it’s even prettier, in fact — in the Spanish equivalent of Podunk, Iowa…with 19,998 other people surrounding us._  
  
  
Still in her towel after showering, she sat on the chair at the desk in front of the mirror to brush through her hair.  
  
  
_And now we’re going on a date. Did you do this mom?_  
  
  
She reached out to an old, withered plush tomato toy that had been a souvenir from Tara’s mom’s run through the tomato river all those years ago. Its green stalks were turning grey, and one beady eye had been sewn back in a bit wonky, but it still smelled like her mom and that was precious.  
  
  
Beside the toy was the letter Tara had received when the will was read, along with the tickets.

 

_Tara,_

_Find your joy._

_Start here._

_And trust._

_Love you always,  
Momma_

  
  
  
She traced her mom’s neatly scrawled sign-off, written in the exact same style as her real signature was, except just for Tara. She was Tara's Momma, no one else's. That signature only belonged to her.  
  
  
_If it was you…thanks. I really like this one._  
  
  
Watching her mother waste away to nothing had been the most heart-wrenching experience of Tara’s life. All throughout they would talk about Tara’s happiness, as it was the only positivity her mother had left. In the very last days, she would say it every time Tara walked in the room, croaked through a dying throat.  
  
  
Be happy, my sweet.  
  
  
Be happy, my darling.  
  
  
Be happy, Tara. Please.  
  
  
At first Tara thought it was a reminder to herself that everything would be okay, a comfort for her final moments. But after she went Tara realized it was a reminder to her too. More than anything Tara's mom wanted her to pursue her happiness and Tara fully intended to do so.  
  
  
She was left a house and a business she loved. Earlier than she'd planned, but taken on willingly.  
  
  
Her mother had given her as much as she possibly could to allow her to live a happy, successful life and blessed her with a lifetime of memories of love. Tara had to fill in the rest.  
  
  
She figured a cute girl that had been on her mind in the rare moments she allowed herself to have a break was as good a start as any. At least she wouldn’t wonder forever about the adorable redhead who was the first person to ever give her flowers.  
  
  
People thought giving flowers to a florist was pointless, but the opposite was true for Tara. She loved flowers, so having someone give them to her with some thought was as lovely as anything else she could receive.  
  
  
She tucked the letter back away, safe and continued on with her routine. She blew out her hair, styled it loosely down past her shoulders and let a few layers sit to the front. It was simple but it framed her face nicely and took advantage of not having time to get it done professionally.  
  
  
Her make-up was light on her face — not much was needed with the color she’d gotten in her cheeks that day. Her eyes were brightened with some blue shadow that matched the blue of the heels she was wearing. She fixed her dress over her body and let herself show off a little bit of cleavage. She'd caught Willow peeking, but only because she'd been peeking back.  
  
  
While it was still the tail end of summer, the evenings could hold a breeze, so she donned her long red leather jacket over her dress to keep her shoulders warm. She wasn’t sure how far they’d be walking but she hoped not far in her shoes.  
  
  
She checked her watch and there was a little time yet, so she went downstairs to the wine bar across the street and ordered a cab sav to calm her butterflies.  
  
  
She enjoyed people-watching, and her own company, so it wasn’t a big deal for her to be alone. At the bar, or on vacation. She'd been happy to experience this trip on her lonesome. But it had been lovely to talk to someone whom she gelled with so easily and she was glad she got to extend that time, however much it was.  
  
  
With a few minutes to spare, she finished her wine and strolled to the entrance of the gardens. She stood politely out of the way of the thoroughfare with her purse in front of her and kept an eye out for Willow.  
  
  
The minutes ticked by, beyond their arranged time, but Tara didn’t mind hanging out. She had better things to do in life than hold a grudge against someone running a few minutes late.  
  
  
A few minutes turned into a lot of minutes and Tara was beginning to get a little worried. How long should she wait, and should she try to find Willow? She knew the name of the hotel she was at, but there was a bunch of reasons why Willow might not have shown up and several of them could cause a lot of embarrassment if Tara showed up and wasn’t wanted.  
  
  
Her heart had begun a slow descent into sinking when she suddenly heard yelling coming from down the path.  
  
  
“Tara! Tara! Tara!”  
  
  
She looked over and saw Willow approaching at considerable speed, practically tripping herself up on the way. Tara held her arms out and Willow came close to crashing into her.  
  
  
“Whoa, slow down,” Tara said, holding Willow’s arms to keep her steady, “It’s okay. Catch your breath.”  
  
  
Willow remained hunched over, drawing in lungfuls of breath. She finally straightened again, still out of breath, but able to speak. She pointed frantically from which the direction she came.  
  
  
“We never…said…which…entrance.”  
  
  
Tara looked across the park for a moment and realized what the hold-up had been.  
  
  
“Oh!”  
  
  
Willow stood on her own, red-faced but in control of her breathing faculties again.  
  
  
“I was gonna go wait at your B&B. I didn’t want you to think I stood you up,” she said, gesturing with one hand, “Then I saw you standing here in your—  
  
  
_really hot leather_  
  
  
—jacket so I just ran.”  
  
  
Tara reached out and smoothed a piece of Willow’s hair that had gone a little wild while running. Her smile reached her eyes.  
  
  
“You’re so sweet.”  
  
  
Tara pecked her lips, and Willow blushed, but with less embarrassment and more what could only be described as 'squee'.  
  
  
“Do you have somewhere in particular you’d like to eat?”  
  
  
Tara shook her head.  
  
  
“I’ve just been eating whenever I find somewhere.”  
  
  
“If you don’t mind, I looked up a place a few blocks from here," Willow replied, fixing her shirt discreetly, "It promises authentic Valencian.”  
  
  
Tara offered her arm as a sign of agreement, which Willow took readily.  
  
  
“You got back safe and sound,” she said somewhat needlessly as they walked out of the gardens.  
  
  
“I did,” Tara confirmed, “I had a little nap and checked my body for bruises before I started getting ready.”  
  
  
“I got one right in the rib cage,” Willow replied, holding her palm gingerly over a spot in her torso, “But I wouldn’t change a thing.”  
  
  
She glanced at Tara, who glanced back at the same time and they shared a smile.  
  
  
The restaurant wasn’t far at all and soon they were seated, after a little tussle with the waiter as Willow swooped in to pull Tara’s seat out for her first.  
  
  
“Are you a wine drinker?” Willow inquired as a way to keep her gaze on Tara without making it seem like she was looking at the cleavage in her dress.  
  
  
Tara nodded, lips quirked on one side. Both from the question, and the glancing.  
  
  
Mission accomplished.  
  
  
“I’ve been known to enjoy a glass.”  
  
  
Willow accepted the wine menu from the waiter as he returned with it.  
  
  
“Would you like to share a bottle?”  
  
  
“I would like that,” Tara answered.  
  
  
Willow handed over the menu.  
  
  
“You pick. You seem like you have a good wine head on your shoulders.”  
  
  
“I’ll take that as the compliment it was intended as,” Tara replied teasingly.  
  
  
She looked through the list and decided pretty quickly.  
  
  
“We’ll take a bottle of your house Tempranillo.”  
  
  
The waiter went off to get the bottle and glasses.  
  
  
“Isn’t it cool not getting carded?” Willow asked giddily, revealing some of her youthful soul.  
  
  
Tara liked it. They were still young — _she_ was still young, though she hadn't come to feel it lately.  
  
  
Not even mid-twenties yet, but the last few months of her life had brought her great responsibilities, and had set her up for more when she went home. A little levity was welcome.  
  
  
“It’s very cool,” she agreed, “Although since graduating I take it as a compliment when I’m asked for ID.”  
  
  
“Tell me about it,” Willow replied, shaking her head to herself, “Adulting is hard.”  
  
  
Tara could only agree.  
  
  
“Yes it is.”  
  
  
The waiter returned and left two glasses down, pouring a capful into Tara’s to taste. Tara lifted the glass to her nose, swirled it and took a sip.  
  
  
She nodded to the waiter that it was fine and he poured them each a glass and handed off the menus.  
  
  
“I was kinda kidding, but you really do know your wine,” Willow commented, resting her menu in her lap.  
  
  
“My mom and I shared a lot before she got too sick to enjoy it,” Tara replied with a fond smile.  
  
  
Willow reached across and took Tara’s hand with a sympathetic look.  
  
  
“It’s fine. Really,” Tara said in response, “We got to say goodbye. She sent me here.”  
  
  
_She sent me to you._  
  
  
“I’m okay.”  
  
  
She was. That was the truth. She squeezed Willow’s hand back in gratitude, then picked up her menu to have a look and move past the conversation piece.  
  
  
“So what are you looking at?”  
  
  
Willow understood a pointed segue when she heard one and didn’t feel brushed off. She couldn’t imagine going through what Tara went through.  
  
  
“The garlic shrimp starter looks good,” she said after a moment.  
  
  
“I’m allergic to shrimp,” Tara answered, “But you can go ahead. I can be around it, I just can’t eat it.”  
  
  
Willow looked up over her menu, flashing her eyelashes.  
  
  
“Would it stop me from kissing you later if I did?”  
  
  
Tara blushed.  
  
  
“Yes.”  
  
  
“Then I’m not getting it,” Willow stage-whispered, her own heart pounding at the confident flirting.  
  
  
Tara’s cheeks flushed with more color.  
  
  
“Do you want to get a big pan of paella and share?”  
  
  
“Oh, yeah, that sounds great,” Willow replied eagerly, “Oh, look there’s a Valencian one.”  
  
  
She read the description, nodding her head.  
  
  
“Chicken, vegetables, nice. …rabbit. Okay. That's fine. I'm open to new experiences…” she started to falter, then paled when she saw the final ingredient, “Snails.”  
  
  
“Are you brave enough?” Tara challenged with a playfully seductive look.  
  
  
“Yes,” Willow replied, sitting up straight at once as if to appear braver, “I eat snails all the time. I’m a regular escarglut.”  
  
  
She motioned for the waiter.  
  
  
“We will have a ‘tradicional Valencian paella’ to share,” she read off the menu, “EXTRA snails.”  
  
  
She nodded to Tara as if to say ‘beat that’, and Tara just smiled demurely.  
  
  
“Caracoles adicionales,” the waiter confirmed with a nod.  
  
  
He took their menus and left. Tara lifted her glass.  
  
  
“Cheers.”  
  
  
“¡Salud!” Willow replied, whipping out some of her guidebook Spanish.  
  
  
They clinked glasses and took a sip, and Tara smiled across the table.  
  
  
“So, I have to know. How did you get to be standing five feet away from me at one of the weirdest festivals in the Northern Hemisphere?”  
  
  
Willow suddenly became shy.  
  
  
“Kinda because of you.”  
  
  
Tara’s smile grew curious.  
  
  
“Now you have to tell me.”  
  
  
Willow drew a small circle on the table with her finger as a distraction while she spoke.  
  
  
“Well…when I went back to collect my flower crown I had every intention of seeing if you’d like to go on a date with me.”  
  
  
“You did?” Tara asked tenderly, heart fluttering.  
  
  
Willow nodded.  
  
  
“And the woman there, your boss. She told me you’d had to pack up and ship home because, well, you know.”  
  
  
She looked up to meet Tara’s eyes.  
  
  
“You’d been so sweet. You’re so cute, I really liked you. I’d never liked anyone that much, that soon. I was so mad at myself for not asking you out when I had the chance, and I was so sad for you having your whole life turned upside down in an instant.”  
  
  
She paused, just to give the moment some reverence.  
  
  
“So I brooded for a few days over Thanksgiving with my family. Over my mom telling me what to do every second. And I just had this like ‘screw this’ epiphany. Stop being afraid to live. To look silly, to disappoint your mother, to feel scared. Stop missing opportunities.”  
  
  
She blew out some air.  
  
  
“So I made a Fuck It list.”  
  
  
Tara was taking a sip of wine and had to bring her hand to her mouth to stop from spewing it in laughter. She recovered, though the smile remained.  
  
  
“What’s on it?”  
  
  
Willow smiled wider.  
  
  
“Lots of things, the typical stuff. Big and little. I held a spider, then a snake. I painted a real picture, even though it looks like a 5 year old did it. I hung it in my house because ‘fuck it’, I did and I’m proud.”  
  
  
Tara made a ‘right on’ motion, which made Willow supremely happy.  
  
  
“I went sky-diving, I went abseiling. I try to have conversations with strangers if the situation allows it. I sing karaoke, badly, but regularly. I volunteered for Meals on Wheels and made lots of great older, friends. I went to Pride in San Francisco and got to be an extra in a movie while I was there. I did a color run and went scuba diving. And the hardest one of all — I maintained a real conversation with my mother where I actually learned things about her and I hope shared some truths about myself too.”  
  
  
Tara smiled in awe.  
  
  
“That’s incredible. Really, that’s a wonderful attitude to life.”  
  
  
Willow shrugged bashfully.  
  
  
“It’s not as wild as it sounds. A few hours a week or random Saturday afternoon adventures, the occasional overnight trip. Coming here is as crazy as it’s gotten, but I’ve been planning to come to Europe for a while. 95% of my life is in my boring lab coat or my boring bathrobe. Occasionally my boring Wonder Woman cape if dress-up is necessitated.”  
  
  
Tara’s eyebrow lifted and Willow’s cheeks flamed.  
  
  
“You know,” she said, clearing her throat, “Like Comic-Con or something.”  
  
  
“That doesn’t sound boring in the slightest,” Tara replied teasingly, “You got the whole outfit?”  
  
  
Willow went as red as Tara’s tomato soft toy, and Tara let her flounder for a moment before giving her a reprieve.  
  
  
“So what do you do in your lab coat?”  
  
  
Willow took a moment to compose herself and drink some wine to calm her nerves, and to dampen the new pictures flashing through her mind.  
  
  
“I’m a research assistant in the physics department of the university. Thrilling, I know.”  
  
  
“It is if you love it,” Tara replied sweetly, “So, my best friend got me onto this game…what’s your best physicist pick up line?”  
  
  
Willow adopted her best flirty look.  
  
  
“Wanna dance? I can really put your inertia in motion.”  
  
  
Tara giggled and it made Willow want to too. She just wanted them to be a pair of giggling schoolgirls who occasionally, nay often, made out in her bedroom.  
  
  
“What’s yours? Do botanists have pick-up lines?”  
  
  
Tara leaned her chin on her fist and looked across the table with suggestively raised eyebrows.  
  
  
“Come closer and I can put your tulips and my tulips together.”  
  
  
Willow’s eyes glazed over.  
  
  
_Mmm, yes please._  
  
  
They made goo eyes across the table for a moment until the waiter shower up with the paella pan and set it in the middle of the table. A waitress came from behind and placed plates and silverware on each of their sides.  
  
  
“Buen provecho.”  
  
  
“This looks…good,” Willow said, avoiding looking at the snails, “Smells great!”  
  
  
Tara let Willow serve herself and then plated some up on hers.  
  
  
“So you’ve become a solo world adventurer.”  
  
  
Willow shook her head.  
  
  
“Not exactly. My friends come with me sometimes. It was Buffy who’s been encouraging me to do all this stuff. She’s fun and wild and I’ve always been boring and bookish.”  
  
  
“And how long have you known Buffy?” Tara asked, her tone slightly cagey, which she kicked herself for.  
  
  
“Since high school,” Willow answered, “If you can get each other through the trauma of high school, you’ve got a friend for life!”  
  
  
Tara felt stupid for reacting the way she had internally. What a reflex for someone she just barely knew.  
  
  
“So she’s not…a girlfriend?”  
  
  
Willow looked at Tara seriously.  
  
  
“I would never have kissed you if I had a girlfriend. I’m not that kinda girl,” she reassured, “And besides, I haven’t been interested in dating lately. I’ve been doing me.”  
  
  
She grew a fresh shade of pink.  
  
  
“Uh, not like that,” she said quickly, and shoveled some chicken and/or rabbit into her mouth to stop her saying something else.  
  
  
“Well if you’re ever in need I have a friend who owns an adult store downtown,” Tara replied, feeling more and more overt with her teasing with every passing mouthful of wine.  
  
  
Willow swallowed quickly.  
  
  
“The Magic Box?”  
  
  
Tara nodded as she chewed, then wiped her mouth with a napkin.  
  
  
“Oh, you know it huh?”  
  
  
“Not as a customer!” Willow replied quickly, “—wait!"  
  
  
Her mouth hung open for a moment.  
  
  
“…Anya is your friend?!” she asked incredulously, “Okay…trying not to judge you…”  
  
  
Tara blinked several times.  
  
  
“ _You_ know Anya?”  
  
  
“I’ve known Xander since kindergarten…he’s one of my best friends,” Willow explained.  
  
  
“Xander is your best friend?” Tara asked in tone that pointedly mimicked Willow's a moment ago, “Okay…trying not to judge you…”  
  
  
“He’s just a goof,” Willow defended.  
  
  
“She’s just a loon,” Tara did the same.  
  
  
Willow opened her mouth and closed it again quickly. She absolutely did not want this date to descend into a fight, and what Tara was said was reasonable, even as Anya-averse as she was.  
  
  
“You know what? That’s fair,” she agreed apologetically, “Okay, so no judging of the best friends.”  
  
  
Tara offered her hand across the table and Willow took it with a smile. She squeezed Tara's fingers.  
  
  
“I can’t believe we never ran into each other.”  
  
  
“Maybe we did and forgot,” Tara suggested.  
  
  
Willow shook her head.  
  
  
“I wouldn't forget you.”  
  
  
She played with Tara’s fingers for a moment, then looked up quizzically.  
  
  
“Wait— if you’re Anya’s best friend…why on earth didn’t you talk her out of that local TV spot she did?” she asked in disbelief, then adopted a tone meant to be mocking impersonation of Anya “I’m Anya Jenkins…”  
  
  
“…and I can put the magic back in your box!” Tara finished alongside Willow in the same tone, and they both dissolved into fits of laughter.  
  
  
Tara wiped tears from her eyes, chuckles still rising from her throat.  
  
  
“It was awful,” she commented, “I tried. I really did. But after the time she slapped me in the face with The Intimidator 3000, I learned not to argue.”  
  
  
Willow’s eyes widened in horror.  
  
  
“I have not been acquainted with Mr. 3000 and I don’t think I want to be,” she said with a shudder, “Do you keep in touch?”  
  
  
Tara nodded.  
  
  
“Yes. She tried to get me on email but I never took to it. I can just about respond to a text message. I feel awkward on the phone, but she likes to call and bend my ear off, so I don’t have to speak much. I can deal with phone calls in work but I get anxious when it’s people I know. I know it sounds stupid.”  
  
  
Willow nodded sympathetically.  
  
  
“You’re talking to the former queen of social anxiety and awkwardness here. You don’t have to explain. But I gotta know, what do you and Anya even have in common to talk about in the first place?  
  
  
Tara shrugged.  
  
  
“Last time she was excited about tripling an investment and was talking about buying an antelope.”  
  
  
Willow could only grin.  
  
  
“Xander once asked me if Klingon Translator was a real job,” she replied, shaking her head, “I kinda wish it was too. Real jobs are a lot less exciting. But I guess even Klingon Translator would get boring after a while.”  
  
  
“I love mine,” Tara replied with a warmth in her eyes, “It’ll be different, when I go home. I’ll be taking over the family business, running it myself. But I love being a provider of joy and color. Picking someone up when they need it or expressing gratitude or pleasure or love. I get to express so many things to so many people.”  
  
  
Willow saw the love Tara had, but wondered about her education choices.  
  
  
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but isn’t a trained botanist kinda overqualified to be a florist?”  
  
  
Tara shrugged.  
  
  
“I was always going to take over the store at home, by choice. So I did a degree that would help me make it as successful as possible or to branch out later on,” Tara replied, smiling at herself, “Sorry. Botanist joke. I minored in business.”  
  
  
“You minored in business but you can't figure out the camera on your phone?” Willow teased.  
  
  
“It was mostly ethics and management. I chose accounting electives instead, so I can do bookkeeping and office software,” Tara explained, blushing that Willow had remembered that, “They did show us internet communication, like email and stuff but I didn't really get it and everyone else did. Things would send before I was ready, or to the wrong person. I was embarrassed, everyone else our age just knows this stuff. Honestly I took a few lower grades just to avoid it. Not my proudest moments.”  
  
  
Willow felt guilty for picking on a sensitive subject.  
  
  
“Well I think it’s really impressive that you have your own business,” she complimented, “What’s it called?”  
  
  
“The Flower Girl,” Tara replied fondly, “My grandmother was the original Flower Girl and then my Mom. Now it’s me.”  
  
  
Willow felt the memory of the first time she saw Tara push to the front of her mind.  
  
  
_The flower girl is pretty._  
  
  
She smiled.  
  
  
“I love it.”  
  
  
“Thank you,” Tara replied, then nodded down at the big pot, speared a snail and ate it, “Aren’t you going to have one of your favorites?”  
  
  
“O-Of course,” Willow replied, feeling some sweat form on her brow.  
  
  
Her hand holding the fork was shaking as she reached into the pot and took one of them. She brought it to her lips, clenching her teeth to stop the gag, then popped it in her mouth.  
  
  
Her eyes widened and she immediately brought her napkin up to her mouth. She motioned wiping it while spitting it out, then pretend chewed and swallowed.  
  
  
“Yum!” she said, avoiding the urge to cough, “But I wouldn’t want to be greedy. You have the rest, really.”  
  
  
Before Tara could reply, Willow just continued on.  
  
  
“So how long are you here?”  
  
  
“Another five days. Enough time to see the city,” Tara replied, picking up another snail to eat. She knew Willow’s was in her napkin, but she figured she’d tortured her enough, “What about you? Do you have plans?”  
  
  
Willow had lots of plans. Over her next ten days, she was going to get the train to Madrid, then on to Barcelona, hop over to Paris and get the Eurostar to London and then connect home from there.  
  
  
There was so much to see, so much to do, so much she could pack into a trip she’d traveled so far to get to.  
  
  
Yet she could not imagine a single thing that was worth missing seeing Tara smile again.  
  
  
“I got nothing. Just, you know, seeing what should be seen.”  
  
  
“If you want we could see things together,” Tara suggested with bashful hope.  
  
  
_Yes, Yes, YES._  
  
  
“Yes,” Willow replied in a far more civilized outward tone, “I would like that very much.”  
  
  
Their smiles matched in scope and brightness, teeth flashing flirtily at each other.  
  
  
They spent the whole meal sneaking looks at each other and playing ‘accidental’ footsie, with neither brave enough to actually commit to trying it full-blown.  
  
  
They chatted more about their jobs and lives, filling each other in on the reality of themselves, neither realizing that the other had wondered about it many times since their first meeting.  
  
  
They finished their meal, with no more snails going Willow’s way, and spent another hour finishing the wine. Both were very chilled by the time they got up to leave, and some inhibitions had definitely lowered a notch or two. Another few minutes at that table and shoes would have definitely slipped off to find each other.  
  
  
Their check came and they both reached for it. Willow got it by a hairsbreadth.  
  
  
“Please. I insist. I did the asking, it's the rule.”  
  
  
Tara accepted graciously.  
  
  
“Thank you very much. I had a lovely evening.”  
  
  
Willow didn’t want their night to end.  
  
  
“So I’m not the world’s biggest partier,” she said as put her card in with the check, “But it seems a shame to have come all this way and gone through the whole festival to not experience a little bit of the after party.”  
  
  
“What do you suggest?” Tara asked.  
  
  
“We go the party block, I read where it is online,” Willow replied easily, “Grab a couple of seats outside, have a cocktail and embrace the atmosphere.”  
  
  
Tara smiled.  
  
  
“Let’s go.”  
  
  
Willow settled the bill, chivalrously helped Tara into her jacket and went one step further than their walk to the restaurant by slipping her hand into Tara’s. She was rewarded when Tara hunched down just a tad to kiss her cheek.  
  
  
Willow hailed them a cab to get them to the strip where the main after-parties were going on. They heard the music before they saw the streets, and felt the thump of it on the ground as stepped out of the car.  
  
  
People were flowing out of the buildings and hanging over the upstairs roof terraces, where more music and was coming from.  
  
  
Willow indicated that they’d go upstairs and they weaved through the crowds. People were more relaxed than the huddled dancers inside, and the soft lantern lighting was much easier on the eyes than the strobe lighting. There was a live DJ outside as well, playing some tranquil house beats.  
  
  
They found a small table dotted in the opposite corner of the DJ, where they could speak a little more comfortably. It was just tucked away from the dance-floor, behind a plant so no one would accidentally stumble into them.  
  
  
“Ligustrum ovalifolium,” Tara commented as she slipped her jacket onto the back of her chair.  
  
  
It took Willow a moment to realize Tara was referencing the plant, and looked relieved.  
  
  
“Oh, thank god, I thought you were cursing me with something from Harry Potter.”  
  
  
Tara grinned across the table with her chin resting on her palm.  
  
  
“That's funny actually, because it's also called a Privet hedge.”  
  
  
Willow leaned in to whisper, so no one else would hear.  
  
  
“I hope you know talking Harry Potter is basically talking dirty to me.”  
  
  
Tara closed the gap and kissed Willow, lingering just enough to get them both tingling.  
  
  
They parted with some quick pecks and each took a moment to savor it as they settled back in their seats.  
  
  
“Um, what would you like?” Willow asked eventually, but Tara insisted in taking her wallet out.  
  
  
“Let me get the drinks, please?”  
  
  
Willow agreed with a grateful smile.  
  
  
“Rum and coke, please.”  
  
  
Tara went to get them drinks and returned with Willow’s drink and a martini for herself.  
  
  
Tara seemed to be responding to the spirits a bit more than Willow and had scooted almost the whole way across the table over the course of the drink.  
  
  
She leaned in just a bit closer.  
  
  
“Try your line on me.”  
  
  
Willow was confused for a moment, but then remembered. She let her fingertips touch Tara’s.  
  
  
“Wanna dance?” she asked, brushing her fingers against Tara’s hand, “I can really put your inertia in motion.”  
  
  
Tara turned and offered her hand, which Willow took and brought her to the dance floor.  
  
  
The music was not slow, but dancing under the moonlight was too romantic not to take advantage of. Their bodies pressed up close and they did a grinding version of a sway. Their faces hovered close and Willow could smell Tara’s sweet scent lifting to her nose. She was very turned on and brought her lips close to Tara’s ear.  
  
  
“I never told you my second best pick-up line.”  
  
  
Tara arched an eyebrow in question and Willow seductively moved her mouth to Tara’s other ear.  
  
  
“That dress would look even better accelerating towards my bedroom floor at 9.81 m/s2.”  
  
  
Willow had in fact, never used that line, ever. But damn if it wasn’t true in that moment.  
  
  
Tara seemed to think so too.  
  
  
“Wanna get away from this crowd?”  
  
  
Willow just nodded and they made their way back down to hail a cab. There was much chaste kissing between stretched seatbelts and a very generous tip for the driver as Willow handed him the first bill her hand came across.  
  
  
They walked into Tara’s B&B and down the hallway to her room, where she struggled for a moment with the key, but eventually got them inside.  
  
  
Willow watched Tara stumble a little taking her jacket off and knew she wasn’t in any state to do anything more that night.  
  
  
She was glad, really— well, most of her was. Apart from a little triangular protest, she didn’t want to take Tara to bed like this. It wasn't something to rush into, right now. Not with alcohol. Not with someone as amazing as Tara. Nothing should taint that.  
  
  
“You’re a little drunk, honey,” she said softly.  
  
  
“Just a little,” Tara admitted with a drunken smile.  
  
  
Willow smiled at how cute she was.  
  
  
“Let’s get breakfast together tomorrow,” she suggested, then thought Tara might want to sleep a bit longer the next morning, “Um, maybe brunch. Is that okay?”  
  
  
“I’d love to,” Tara agreed.  
  
  
She was tipsy, but plenty coherent and appreciated that Willow was looking out for her.  
  
  
Willow went to the desk and scribbled a note with the notepad provided.  
  
  
“Brunch with Willow — 11 o’clock. I’ll come get you. Okay?”  
  
  
“I’ll be ready,” Tara promised.  
  
  
Willow picked up her purse again and kissed Tara gently.  
  
  
“Bye. I had a great day, today. The best. See you tomorrow.”  
  
  
She left, Tara watching her leave the whole way.  
  
  
Tara lay back on the bed with a delightful rush of blood to the head, and then as she felt her lips tingle remembering Willow's kiss, an even more delightful one a little lower.  
  
  
She fell asleep in that spot, as content as she had been in a long time.

 

 

  
  
Willow snuck up behind Tara and put her hands over her eyes.  
  
  
“Guess who?”  
  
  
Tara pretended to think about it.  
  
  
“Blossie?”  
  
  
Willow’s heart did flips. She absolutely adored the little nickname Tara had adopted for her. Knowing its origins and hearing Tara say it with such affection really hit home to Willow that Tara had felt their initial connection as much as she had. The way it had just inadvertently slipped out the first time Tara said it, without her even noticing, and how Tara had just kept saying it without them even needing to discuss it, just made it feel so natural and special between them.  
  
  
That connection was so palpable.  
  
  
And in their intervening days together, it had only grown.  
  
  
“Got it in one,” she confirmed and turned Tara around to offer a sweet kiss.  
  
  
She just loved kissing Tara.  
  
  
She’d kissed her good morning every day when they met for breakfast, and goodnight every evening outside her place. She then went back to her hotel to recount everything in her journal. She knew she’d come to appreciate having those memories written down in vivid detail.  
  
  
Neither of them mentioned how they’d left each other the first night and hadn’t tried to push into each other’s rooms either. They were just enjoying building their bond.  
  
  
Instead, they’d had the most wonderful days exploring the city together. They’d visited all the parks, central squares and botanical gardens, where Willow had gotten history lessons on all of the different kinds of plants. Then they spent a day at the ‘City of Arts and Sciences’ which was a series of futuristic looking buildings full of science exhibits, a 3D cinema, a mini oceanarium and even an opera house. It was Willow’s turn to show off while they were there, explaining how some of the displays worked and to tell Tara about the kind of work she did.  
  
  
Neither of them had had any interest in the others’ field before they’d met, but could have listened to one another speak for hours.  
  
  
They’d visited the markets where they’d shared great food and exchanged opinions on crafts, gone cycling along the river and spent an afternoon at the beach with much sneaked gazes at the other in their bathing suits.  
  
  
They’d packed a lot into their few days together and Willow hadn’t regretted not following her original plans for a second.  
  
  
On their second last night, over dinner, Tara had expressed a desire to go strawberry picking and Willow had gone online and surprised her that morning, their last day together, with tour bus tickets.  
  
  
They’d had a wagon ride around the farm and told about the farming methods by an adorable older Spanish man with broken English. Then they had been given baskets to rove the fields with, and while Willow’s was getting full, Tara seemed to just be checking out the plants and leaving them without disruption.  
  
  
“Did you know strawberries aren’t technically berries?” Willow said, showing off a fact without thinking it through.  
  
  
Tara looked up with a smile.  
  
  
“I did know that.”  
  
  
Willow blushed.  
  
  
“Right. Botanist,” she said, clearing her throat, “Well what can you tell me about them, then?”  
  
  
Tara finally plucked a strawberry, a particularly plump one.  
  
  
“They’re a member of the rose family.”  
  
  
Tara lifted the strawberry under her nose.  
  
  
“Do they smell as sweet?” Willow questioned.  
  
  
Tara looked up through her eyelashes and her tone dropped seductively.  
  
  
“Some people say they’re an aphrodisiac.”  
  
  
She offered the strawberry to Willow, who took a bite and stained her lips with juice.  
  
  
Tara leaned in and bit the other half, pressing her lips to Willow’s in the process. She licked the juice from Willow’s bottom lip.  
  
  
“I tend to agree.”  
  
  
Willow felt a throb between her legs.  
  
  
“Gonna go…box up my strawberries!”  
  
  
She ran back down the field to dump her basket of strawberries into a box to carry home in. Tara wasn’t far behind her, so Willow ran into the bathroom to clean up and cool down.  
  
  
When she came back out, their bus had pulled up and she couldn’t see Tara, so figured she was on board. She walked up the steps and spotted her in a middle row.  
  
  
Tara smiled when she saw her and lifted the box in her lap.  
  
  
“Got your strawberries.”  
  
  
“Thanks,” Willow replied, sitting in beside her, “Want one? I didn’t see you pick any.”  
  
  
“I just like to see them grow,” Tara answered, but took an offered strawberry from the box.  
  
  
Willow folded the top back on the box and they both dipped in and out of it.  
  
  
Tara rested her head against the seat to look out the window for the journey home. She really loved the abundance of beautiful parks in the city.  
  
  
“I really want to be able to import flowers from here someday,” she said with a soft sigh, “I won't be able to at the beginning, but someday… Just have to get off the ground first.”  
  
  
“Will you have people to help out?” Willow asked, “You know, in the beginning?”  
  
  
Tara shrugged one shoulder.  
  
  
“I have friends I went to school with,” she explained, “But we’re not close like the friends I made in college. I wouldn’t ask them. I wouldn't ask anyone, really, unless I hired them. It's my responsibility.”  
  
  
“No family?” Willow inquired.  
  
  
Tara shook her head.  
  
  
“Grandparents all died before I was a teenager,” she said, turning her head to Willow, “My parents split when I was in high school. My father did not react as well to me coming out as my mom did.”  
  
  
Willow looked sympathetic and squeezed Tara’s hand.  
  
  
“He went back to his first wife and their son, who he pretty much abandoned when he married my mom, even though my mom tried to encourage them to have a relationship,” Tara replied dismissively, “He’s a jackass. He didn’t even come to her funeral or acknowledge it in any way.”  
  
  
Willow linked their fingers.  
  
  
“I’m so sorry,” she said, resting her chin on Tara’s shoulder, “Kind of the opposite for me. Neither of my parents were happy about it, but my dad went right to ‘I guess there’s nothing I can do about it’ acceptance while my mom is still stuck firmly in denial.”  
  
  
She sighed too.  
  
  
“For now.”  
  
  
“The future always has hope,” Tara advised optimistically.  
  
  
Willow smiled.  
  
  
“Yeah. It does.”  
  
  
She tenderly nuzzled Tara's shoulder.  
  
  
“And if she wasn't so…her. I never would have met you. I'll always be grateful for that.”  
  
  
She leaned in and stole a kiss, delighting in Tara's smile. She settled her head back in on Tara's shoulder and closed her eyes.  
  
  
Next thing she knew there was a light tickling on her cheek. Her eyes blinked a few times and she realized they had been heavy with sleep. She felt Tara’s palm flatten against her and a light tickle on the back of her ear lobe as she was coaxed awake.  
  
  
“We’re back, Willow.”  
  
  
Willow sat up slowly and looked around, seeing people disembarking the bus.  
  
  
“Oh.”  
  
  
She hadn’t remembered falling asleep. She just remembered feeling happy and warm and sleep had followed.  
  
  
She stood up and stretched, oblivious to how she was making Tara feel by showing a strip of her stomach as her shirt rode up. She grabbed the now empty box of strawberries, crushed it and tossed it in the trash container by the front of the bus.  
  
  
Tara followed behind her, trying to control her hormones.  
  
  
They walked out of the bus terminal and away from the crowds.  
  
  
“Do you want to get an early dinner or go for a walk or do something beforehand?” Willow asked, hoping to drag out their last day as much as possible.  
  
  
Just as Tara opened her mouth to speak, the heavens opened as well and they were caught in a sudden torrential downpour of rain.  
  
  
“Where the hell did that come from?!” Willow shouted, ripping her sweater off so she could put it above Tara’s head, not that it was much use.  
  
  
Tara pointed in the opposite direction.  
  
  
“My place is closest!”  
  
  
They both turned and started to run down the street and then weaved between two side streets they’d gotten to know quite well, to get to Tara’s B&B.  
  
  
Tara fished her keys out and let them in, where they both immediately sped into the bathroom to spare the carpet the dripping of water from their absolutely drenched clothing.  
  
  
They were both panting from the run and their clothes were stuck to them. They were twice as wet as they had been even when they were hosed down after the tomato fight.  
  
  
Willow looked on and her breath caught as the curves and swells of Tara’s body were revealed as familiarly as she'd even seen.  
  
  
She caught Tara’s eye.  
  
  
“I’ve never been so wet in my entire life.”  
  
  
Tara kept Willow’s gaze.  
  
  
“You should get out of those wet clothes.”  
  
  
Willow’s heart was pounding but she wasn’t going to let this opportunity go by. She wasn't just going to 'fuck it', she was going to fuck _her_ and she was going to give herself over entirely to it.  
  
  
“Can you help?”  
  
  
Tara didn’t waste another second. She grabbed a fistful of Willow’s wet t-shirt and pulled her the distance between them. Their lips crushed together hungrily and neither were shy anymore; they were ripping each other’s clothes off without a care or ounce of timidity between them.  
  
  
Tara reached into the shower to turn the spray on and pulled Willow in under it with her. She grabbed Willow’s cheeks and kissed her with an intensity that she’d never displayed before.  
  
  
The warm water flowed down their bodies and made their skin prick with goosebumps from the change in temperature.  
  
  
The water could have been lava for how molten Willow was feeling inside. Her hands finally found their place on Tara's body, learning how she felt under a delicate touch.  
  
  
Tara’s mouth dropped into Willow’s neck and tasted her skin. Their breasts pressed against each other and they moaned in the same low, guttural frequency.  
  
  
Willow’s hand dropped to palm Tara’s breast, feeling the nipple harden under her touch. Her thumb rolled it, then pinched it and she felt Tara’s body tremble.  
  
  
Her hand reached out, turned the shower knob off and then grabbed Tara’s hand. She pulled her out of the bathroom and over to the bed, pushing her down gently.  
  
  
She took a moment to drink in Tara’s wet, prone body. Her dark nipples stood prominently against her pink skin and her golden curls looked like honey. Willow was sure she’d taste as sweet.  
  
  
She climbed on top of Tara and kissed her first, then slowly lowered her body. Section by section, so she could really appreciate each new touch of skin.  
  
  
Tara’s eyelids fluttered with pleasure as Willow’s thighs slid against hers. Her tongue sought greater contact and pushed into Willow’s mouth. Her hand slid into Willow’s hair and held her there, never wanting to do anything ever again but kiss Willow’s soft, sweet lips.  
  
  
They spent a long time kissing, not because neither wanted to do more, just because they were enjoying it so damn much. Still, their bodies were rubbing and gliding and there was only so much aching they could take.  
  
  
Willow began kissing down Tara’s body, taking her time and paying special attention that every single bit of skin got the attention it deserved. When she got to the apex of Tara’s thighs, she nuzzled her nose there first.  
  
  
She got that intoxicating scent and felt her stomach flip. She let her tongue stroke Tara’s lips before gently parting them to attend to the extra sensitive skin. Her first taste was dizzying and the most erotic thing she’d ever experienced.  
  
  
Low crying moans escaped from Tara’s mouth as Willow’s head bobbed between her legs. Her toes curled into the sheets alongside Willow's ass, and her hips thrust gently but at regular speed.  
  
  
Her back arched many times and she could have let Willow finish her off, in probably a minute or less. Instead she sat up a little, pushing Willow back in the process and took her face in her hands again to plant a kiss on her.  
  
  
They rolled back onto the bed and their legs tangled together, opening each other up. Tara cupped Willow’s butt and enjoyed a little squeezing before moving around to probe her wetness.  
  
  
“Are you sensitive?” she asked softly as her fingertips gently coaxed through Willow’s lips.  
  
  
Willow shook her head.  
  
  
“No, you can…” she trailed off as Tara rolled over her clit with a lighter pressure, that gradually grew more and more firm, “Mmhm. Uh huh. Yeah, like that. Just like that.”  
  
  
Willow moaned as Tara kissed her neck again in all those wonderfully sensitive spots that she didn’t even know she had and Tara just seemed to be able to find.  
  
  
Her hand nestled between Tara’s legs and worked her up until she was slick.  
  
  
“Can I?”  
  
  
“Yes,” Tara breathed.  
  
  
Willow entered her and heard a gravely groan and felt teeth indentations on her shoulder blade.  
  
  
“Can I?” Tara whispered back, voice so low and throaty that Willow almost came on the spot.  
  
  
“God yes,” Willow groaned and arched her leg some more to make it easier.  
  
  
Willow felt those wonderfully long fingers she’d spent so much time linked with fill her inside. She bit her bottom lip and held Tara in deeply.  
  
  
“That feels so good.”  
  
  
“You feel so good,” Tara echoed.  
  
  
They resumed kissing and spent a few moments finding a comfortable rhythm. Once they locked that in, they moved in sync with swallowed moans and electricity crackling through the air.  
  
  
Pure passion passed between them, mussing their hair and replacing the evaporated water droplets with sweat of exertion. Their bodies tingled as they brushed off each other and their mouths just could not get enough.  
  
  
Neither wanted to be the one to come first, but were also struggling not to give in to the wonderful waves of pleasure.  
  
  
Willow felt the first shudder and made herself clench to stop it. She heard Tara’s noise of enjoyment when she did that and liked it very much.  
  
  
“C’mere,” she said, pulling them as close as possible, “You wanna try to come together?”  
  
  
Tara nodded, eyes glazed.  
  
  
“Oh yes.”  
  
  
Willow rested her forehead on Tara’s and resumed what she was doing, adding in some squeezes when she could see it was aiding Tara’s enjoyment.  
  
  
“Are you close?”  
  
  
“Yes,” Tara panted, “Yes.”  
  
  
Willow pressed her lips to Tara’s and she couldn’t stop it anymore, it broke from within her and filled her with that incomparable wave of warmth.  
  
  
Feeling and seeing Willow’s orgasm was rocket fuel for Tara, who turned her head in to bite the pillow so she didn’t embarrass herself with a loud scream.  
  
  
It wasn’t perfectly simultaneous but it was pretty close and that was more than satisfying.  
  
  
Their sticky bodies broke apart but didn’t get too far from each other. Their hands met between them while they regained breath.  
  
  
Willow eventually just let out a long, satisfied moan.  
  
  
“Wow.”  
  
  
“You too?” Tara grinned, quite pleased with herself with her hair stuck to her brow.  
  
  
Willow nodded while blowing out a puff of air.  
  
  
“Oh yeah.”  
  
  
She turned her head towards Tara, then rolled onto her stomach. She left some butterfly kisses on Tara’s collarbone and up into her neck, nuzzling there. She breathed into Tara’s ear and felt the smallest of shudders, only perceptible because they were so close.  
  
  
“That was amazing.”  
  
  
She bumped her nose into Tara’s and spent a long time kissing her lips so she’d remember them always.  
  
  
“You're amazing, Willow,” Tara answered in a whisper between kisses.  
  
  
After a little while of just relaxing together in silence, Tara’s hand began to run over the comforter beneath them.  
  
  
“The blanket is wet. I should hang it out on the balcony to dry.”  
  
  
Willow made a scrunched up face.  
  
  
“Would that involve getting up?”  
  
  
Tara’s crooked smile shone through.  
  
  
“Eventually.”  
  
  
“Then I'm coming out firmly against it,” Willow replied definitively.  
  
  
Tara patted the blanket. It wasn’t _that_ wet and would dry out long before they had to vacate it for good. Still, she enjoyed teasing Willow and pulled the same scrunched up face Willow had earlier.  
  
  
“What about the blanket’s nasty wetness?”  
  
  
Willow caught Tara’s eye and slid her hand down her stomach, close to her thighs.  
  
  
“Well, I'm kinda busy working on my own.”  
  
  
She slid over on top of Tara and looked down seductively.  
  
  
“And yours.”  
  
  
They spent the rest of the afternoon and evening within the confines of those four corners of the bed, appreciating each other’s closeness in various ways.  
  
  
As the sun dipped lower and the sky turned a lovely shade of indigo, Tara was enjoying discovering the bumps and lines of Willow’s fingers up close as she played with them on the pillow.  
  
  
“We should get some dinner,” she commented, but didn’t sound very committed to the idea.  
  
  
Willow was quite content to lie there and have her fingers be played with. She didn’t want to move either.  
  
  
“Do you want to do the most American thing in the world and order a pizza?”  
  
  
Tara had to admit that that actually sounded pretty good.  
  
  
“At least find somewhere local and not Dominos or whatever.”  
  
  
Willow nodded. She tried to reach out for her purse but it was abandoned on the floor too far away.  
  
  
“You have to lean with me because I’m not letting go.”  
  
  
Tara obliged and they scooted to the edge together so Willow could get her phone. They lay back together and Willow silently browsed on her phone.  
  
  
“Don’t you just love all these new apps? 40 different restaurants at my fingertips, delivered in two clicks and 20 minutes, all in a foreign country.”  
  
  
Tara shook her head.  
  
  
“Not really. My phone is mostly just decoration. I haven’t even turned it on since I got here.”  
  
  
“Right,” Willow replied with a grin, “The depressing spelling.”  
  
  
“You remember that?” Tara asked, touched.  
  
  
Willow leaned over to kiss Tara’s lips.  
  
  
“You sure know how to leave an impression.”  
  
  
They shared another kiss but it was short-lived as Willow had to get up again.  
  
  
“I have to pee this time so I think we’ll have to let go.”  
  
  
Tara released Willow’s hand and enjoyed watching her shuffle off.  
  
  
She looked down at herself and shook her head in disbelief.  
  
  
She never did things like this, but she never did anything like she had with Willow that vacation.  
  
  
She’d never embraced something so freely, never lived so much in the moment. Never just allowed herself to feel happy without worrying about the consequences.  
  
  
Willow came skipping back out and Tara felt that lightness in her heart; the fanciful flutter that caught her off-guard every time.  
  
  
Willow spotted Tara’s mom's toy tomato and giggled at the anthropomorphic facial features.  
  
  
She flopped belly-down on the bed, holding it.  
  
  
“Who’s this?”  
  
  
“My mom bought her here when she went to La Tomatina in the 80s,” Tara explained, playing with the worn tag at the side of the toy, “She always just sat on a bookshelf with some pictures, but one day when I was five or six I asked about her.”  
  
  
Tara lay down again so they were closer.  
  
  
“My mom was teaching me all about the plants we were growing and she told me about running through the sea of tomatoes and all about the tomato plants we had. She told me about lycopene, so we decided to call her Lycopenny,” she said, smiling softly, then with a devilish grin, “Lycopenelope when she’s in trouble.”  
  
  
Willow laughed.  
  
  
“That’s so cute,” she intoned, turning it around and seeing the marks of age, “You brought her all the way here. She must be special.”  
  
  
“My mom would get so happy when she would see her…remembering I guess,” Tara replied.  
  
  
She took a moment, not wanting to misspeak or misrepresent her mother in any way.  
  
  
“I think she felt pretty trapped in parts of her life. Her marriage, her illness. And this reminded her of that freedom,” she said eventually, “She slept with her every night from the diagnoses until…”  
  
  
She paused and inhaled a breath, exhaling it slowly.  
  
  
“So, yeah. She’s special.”  
  
  
Willow nuzzled Tara's cheek.  
  
  
“Just like you.”  
  
  
They kissed again, never missing an opportunity. Not when their time was so short.  
  
  
Neither were going to mention it, but they would savor every last second that day and night brought.

 

 

  
  
Willow awoke in the warmth of Tara’s sheets, but with a distinct lack of actual Tara.  
  
  
She jolted up and looked around the small room. It had been tidied and removed of any trace of Tara. Her clothes were gone, her bags were gone. Her shoes, her purse and when Willow got up to check, her toothbrush too.  
  
  
Willow sank back onto the bed, looking around in disbelief.  
  
  
Finally, on the nightstand opposite to where she’d woken up, she saw a piece of paper, a key to the room, and Lycopenny sitting guarding it all.  
  
  
Her hands reached out and snapped up the piece of paper.

 

_I’m sorry._

_I just couldn’t say goodbye._

_I know I’m a coward._

_I didn’t want to leave you alone, so I left you Penny.  
I know you’ll take care of her._

_Please don’t misinterpret it as me not caring._

_I’ve never cared more._

_This wasn’t a vacation fling._

_This has been the best week of my life._

_I wish it could have been more._

_You’re beautiful, smart, sweet and kind._

_I fell for you hard._

_And I think once you fall for Willow, you stay fallen._

  
  
  
Willow stared at the words, her mouth agape. They’d stayed up until sun-up, so Tara must have slipped out soon after she’d fallen asleep. Her heart ached imagining the kiss Tara would have pressed on her forehead, the last longing look before leaving.  
  
  
She felt like her insides were emptying out onto the floor, until she suddenly gasped in a breath of air when she saw pen marks on the other side of the page. Her hands twisted the letter around and immediately the address written on the top jumped out at her as if it was written in highlighter and glitter instead of light blue pen.

 

_Write me?  
If you want to.  
I’d love to hear from you.  
Take care, Blossie.  
You’re worth it._

_Yours,  
Tara ♡ xx_

 

  
  
  
Willow exhaled a shaking breath of relief and emotion.  
  
  
She wasn't mad. She didn't want to say goodbye either. She would have cried, and it probably would have been snotty, and that was not the last image she wanted to leave Tara with. She didn’t need that exchange to know what passed between them.  
  
  
If she didn’t, Tara leaving her with Penny told her everything she needed to know. That toy would travel in her lap the entire rest of the trip, just so she’d know she could return it safely.  
  
  
She immediately took a photo of Tara’s address and sent to her work email, her personal email, the cloud and to her own Facebook messenger account so she would never lose it. She wiped her eyes free of the tears that had sprung and kissed where Tara had signed her name with a heart and two kisses.  
  
  
_Our tulips._  
  
  
She giggled to herself with her still shiny eyes. She couldn’t help but remember what Tara had said to her the day before.  
  
  
_The future always has hope._

 

 

  
  
Willow had condensed her ten day trip around Europe into her five remaining days.  
  
  
It had been jam-packed with sight-seeing and traveling, which gave her ample time to consider everything that had happened with Tara.  
  
  
It was on the train from Paris to London that she finally been able to put pen to paper and write her first letter.  
  
  
_Tara,  
  
First of all, you’re not a coward. The dictionary says a coward is 'a person who is contemptibly lacking in the courage to do or endure dangerous or unpleasant things'. You’ve endured a lot and come through it still shining the sweetest smile, so you’re clearly wrong. You’re not going to argue with the dictionary, are you? That would be most injudicious! (I may have gotten hooked on a word-of-the-day app).  
  
I hope you got home safely, and had a nice journey. I will return Penny to you safe and sound. Thank you for trusting me with her. She’s been seeing the sights with me. She thought the Eiffel Tower was cool, but did not enjoy the French cheese. She was not swayed by my argument of cheese and tomato being a match made in heaven. She also thought some of the French people were snooty but I told her she was a Spanish tomato and should know better than to be xenophobic to her neighbors.  
  
I’m so happy you left me your address. I don’t think I’ve written a letter since the 90s, but now I'm so excited to. I thought it was kind of pointless, but having your letter, with those words you wrote yourself…that means a lot. Those words mean a lot.  
  
And I feel the same.  
  
I’m on my way to London, then back home to reality. I hope we can stay in touch. I want to tell you all the places I've seen. I want to know how you're doing.  
  
Plus I’ll need a reprieve from the boring lab coat. Somehow skydiving doesn’t seem like it will have the same effect now I know the thrill of your kisses.  
  
My address is on the back, in case you ripped the envelope and if there's some letter mishap, you can always write me at the university. I just really want to hear from you.  
  
Yours,  
Willow ♡ xx_

 

 

  
  
Tara could hardly believe it when the envelope rattled through her letterbox less than a week after she’d gotten home, with a postmark from England.  
  
  
She’d thought, if Willow even wrote to her at all — if she wasn’t furious for the way Tara had up and left — that it’d be a few weeks or even months down the line. She mostly thought she’d probably be forgotten about when she couldn’t even provide a convenient, modern way to keep in contact.  
  
  
She’d been afraid to open it at first; had turned it over several times and spent an age carefully ripping the top open so as to preserve the address just in case.  
  
  
She must have read the letter a hundred times without moving from that spot. Her smile only grew with each refresh. She laughed and cried until she was just a sitting ball of happiness.  
  
  
Then she brought out her legal pad and immediately penned a response.

 

 

  
  
Their letters became quick and fast between them, turning around a couple a week.  
  
  
Each grew excited to go home at the end of the day to see if one was sitting on the floor. Tara would doodle designs on the envelopes or draw little flipbooks and include petals or small flowers as decoration. Willow added in some photos she got printed especially with her own captions and, in response to Tara’s art, tried her hand at some small, often silly, poems.  
  
  
Apart from that, the envelopes were stuffed with pages.  
  
  
They told each other about their work; Tara about trying to reopen the store and Willow about her latest research projects, the ones she was free to talk about anyway.  
  
  
They told each other about friends they’d met; about movies they saw; about funny things they witnessed when out and about. Meals, clothes, TV. No matter how mundane, if it raised a chuckle or a smile, they told each other.  
  
  
Anything of any note was remembered to tell the other later. Every worry shared and reassured, even if it took three days to return.  
  
  
Though their affection for each other was clear in their ever present need to share their lives, both had shied away from saying anything overtly romantic or sexual. It was just too hard when they longed to even be able to hold hands.  
  
  
The only thing that lingered was their ‘tulip’ sign-off and unbeknownst to each other, both of them closed their eyes and imagined those kisses each and every time they read them.  
  
  
Eventually, as all feelings buried deep inside tend to do, it started to creep out again.  
  
  
The tenderness…  
  
  
_…have you thought about an online presence?  
I know it’s not your thing, but you at least need a website these days.  
I could help you.  
I could even chat with Anya about e-commerce and we could come up with a plan for you…_

 

_…I'm looking into classes.  
I'm finally getting that there's no way I can run this business without the internet.  
Nobody even takes orders over the phone any more, my supply is so limited.  
So yes, I would so appreciate that.  
But you’d, willingly, not only stay in a room with Anya but hold a whole conversation?…_

  
  
  
_…yes, I’d do that for you, dummy.  
Are you getting it yet?  
I’d do anything for you…_

 

_…you don't know how much I—  
Anything I can ever do for you.  
I will do.  
All I need is to know you're happy…_

  
  
  
And then the attraction…  
  
  
_…it was really warm today.  
I had to come home at lunch to take a cold shower.  
Of course I’ve kind of gotten used to them lately.  
You can't just tell me you went swimming and not tell me what your bathing suit looked like.  
My imagination can be dangerous.  
Was it the red one you wore in Spain?  
That's the one I thought about…_

 

_…I thought about you today when I was designing some wreathes.  
I drew in some orange roses and yellow daisies like I put in your flower crown.  
It reflected your hair so nicely.  
You looked beautiful.  
You look beautiful.  
You just are.  
You're the most gorgeous woman I've ever known…_

  
  
  
_…hey, I have a new one for you, but I thought it up just for you:  
If you were a flower, you'd be a **damn** -delion.  
If that wasn't corny enough to send you running, nothing will.  
But damn, Tara. You don't even know how stunning you are…_

 

_…I feel so empty inside when I feel your absence.  
And I don't just mean emotionally.  
I hope you know how much your letters mean to me.  
I hope you know how you make my heart sing…_

  
  
  
Until all that was left was love.  
  
  
After months of writing and over fifty letters exchanged between them, Willow couldn’t take it anymore.  
  
  
If Tara’s heart sung for her, Willow wanted to make it a duet.  
  
  
She sat down with her nicest pen and took time to perfect every stroke, wanting Tara to feel the care she put into it as she read.  
  
  
_…reading your letters is highlight of my whole life.  
I read them until my eyes are raw.  
Until I’ve memorized the flick of every letter.  
Until I can go to sleep imagining you speaking every word to me.  
  
I want to hear you call me Blossie again.  
I want to see your smile pull your lips up in one corner and light up your whole face.  
I want to know the curves of your body the way I know that the bottom point of your 'S' veers right when you're excited.  
  
I think I love you, Tara.  
  
I know I do.  
  
Can we try this?  
  
I want to make it work, however possible.  
  
I want to be the first thing your mouth touches in the morning  
Instead of your coffee cup’s ceramic lip  
I want to turn and see your smile without warning  
I don’t care if I have to take many a trip  
  
The first time I saw you I knew  
I wanted to be stuck to you like glue  
So if you love me too  
Then let’s make this thing true  
  
Here's my phone number, if you want to speak properly.  
  
You don’t have to feel awkward.  
  
I don't care if you're quiet for a while, or need to take a break, or whatever you have to do.  
  
I just want to hear your voice.  
  
But I can wait for a letter.  
  
You are worth waiting for.  
  
You are worth everything for.  
  
Yours  
  
**Your** (I am. I so am.) Willow ♡ xx_

 

 

  
  
A few days passed with nothing.  
  
  
Then a week, no response.  
  
  
Two weeks with zero contact.  
  
  
Three weeks of silence.  
  
  
Willow had begun to worry that something had happened to Tara and had searched for newspaper articles for any accidents. She even went to Anya to ask if she’d been in touch.  
  
  
Xander answered the door and after some pleasantries, Willow asked if Anya was around.  
  
  
“Oh she’s talking to that girl you both know,” Xander had said cluelessly, “Will I get her? Do you have to talk shop?”  
  
  
That was a sucker punch to the gut. Tara was fine. Her phone worked. Her hands clearly worked. She was just ignoring her. Ignoring her declaration. Ignoring her plea, for some reason.  
  
  
Freaked out, disgusted, annoyed, Willow had no idea. But none of the possibilities were good.  
  
  
Willow made an excuse to leave and went back down to her car. She slammed the door and dropped her head against the steering wheel.  
  
  
Once again stuck in that driver's seat; sad, dejected and angry at herself over her feelings for Tara Maclay.

 

 

  
  
Willow got through another brooding Thanksgiving with her parents and thanked Yahweh Hanukkah wasn’t for another month this year.  
  
  
She was still stung by Tara’s rejection, and stunned that her Tara — well that was a delusion, wasn't it? — that _not_ -her-Tara, whom she thought she knew so well could be so cruel.  
  
  
Willow would have understood 'sorry, I can't'.  
  
  
'Sorry, it's too hard'.  
  
  
Even 'Not sorry, but I'm just not into it anymore, go away'.  
  
  
Anything. Just a response.  
  
  
The Saturday morning after Thanksgiving, Willow was enjoying a pot of coffee and reading on her window seat. The doorbell rang but she was in no mood for entertaining, so she ignored it.  
  
  
There was only a brief pause before it went again, then a third time. She knew her friends would have just called her by now, so she went to answer it, hoping it might be some girl scouts. Some Tagalongs would complement her misery wonderfully right now.  
  
  
She opened the door, unprepared for what was on the other side.  
  
  
Tara was standing there, holding an envelope in one hand and a mini-bouquet in the other, shaped like a heart with a red outline and white in the middle. It was the inversion of colors Willow had chosen for her a little more than a year ago but with a much more expressive shape.  
  
  
Willow stood there, her mouth agape.  
  
  
“Tara.”  
  
  
Tara stepped forward nervously.  
  
  
“I-I am so sorry I haven’t been in touch.”  
  
  
Willow blinked several times and finally met Tara’s eye.  
  
  
“What…?”  
  
  
“I didn’t want to send you this and then leave you hanging for weeks. Or get your hopes up. Or lie to you until I knew…” Tara explained holding the envelope out prominently, though it didn’t help Willow understand any better, “I wanted to be certain of my plans. I wanted to be able to offer this wholly and without restriction. I wanted to give everything. I want that. I'm giving you that. And you said I was worth waiting for, so I hoped you could forgive me.”  
  
  
Willow’s brow creased, so Tara handed her the envelope. It was fully addressed and stamped to her. She turned it over and opened it, pulling the sheet of paper inside out.  
  
  
Right in the middle were the only four words on the whole page.

 

_I love you too._

  
  
  
Willow felt a lump form in her throat and her heart started to pound.  
  
  
She looked back up at Tara, who she noticed had shaking hands.  
  
  
“So I decided to hand deliver it.”  
  
  
She then shyly thrust the bouquet forward.  
  
  
“Along with the first delivery from The Flower Girl’s new soon-to-be-opened location.”  
  
  
Willow's letter had been the final push Tara needed to decide she was coming back. She had been lonely before her mother even died, without her close friends. She had a lot of competition and the business had lost customers during the illness. Then Anya had told her the old store she worked at had closed when her old boss had retired, leaving an opportunity in the market.  
  
  
Tara had trusted in fate in Spain and she'd realized it was time to do it again.  
  
  
The Flower Girl was not a building. It was her. She earned the title and she could take it wherever she wanted.  
  
  
And she wanted to be with Willow.  
  
  
And Willow wanted to be with her, judging by the tears of joy that were springing to her eyes.  
  
  
“You mean…?” she asked, her voice cracking.  
  
  
Tara nodded, smiling vulnerably.  
  
  
“I mean.”  
  
  
She took another step forward, heart hammering.  
  
  
“I love you, Blossie.”  
  
  
She looked at Willow hopefully, who was beaming behind her wet eyes.  
  
  
“Do you still want—”  
  
  
Willow grabbed a fistful of Tara’s shirt and pulled them together, the exact same way Tara had done to her in the bathroom in Spain all those months ago. Their kiss reclaimed each other and marked the start of a new beginning.  
  
  
The bouquet was crushed between their bodies, though neither noticed as the petals floated down to their feet.  
  
  
They would be picked up and preserved later, as a reminder that love blossoms when you remember to water the soul.

 

 

 

 


End file.
